


The Battle In My Mind

by FallenAngel1804



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, 221b, Afghanistan, Angst, Death, Depression, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, PTSD, Romance, Sad, Tears, dying, gun - Freeform, mrs hudson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:21:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2675324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenAngel1804/pseuds/FallenAngel1804
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is always in a battlefield. A battlefield of his mind, what happens if he loses?.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, another Sherlock fanfic for you. I also did this with another RPer from Omegle. The beginning is hers and she chooses to remain anonymous. Another sad one, but I like sad. Go check out my blog on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/whatudowhennooneseesyou. Please kudos and comment, will try and complete it as soon as I can. Thank You so much!!!.

John, I need you to come pick me up from Scotland Yard -SH

Why, What's going on? -JW

I need you to bail me out, please? -SH

Why, What happened? -JW

I kind of got into a fight, and knocked someone out. They kind of...I might've seriously hurt them -SH

What? When? How? Why?- JW

A few hours ago...And...I don't know, I just lost it. He was insulting someone and I snapped....-SH

 

How badly do you need to hurt him?. How much do I need to bail you out?. JW

I'm not sure yet, and....quite bad. I kind of...put him in a coma -SH

But what exactly happened Sherlock? I need to know word for word -JW

Why? I've told you what you wanted to know haven't I? -SH

 

I know but I need to know whether to bail you out or not-JW

Fine, don't bother! It cant matter all that much can it? -SH

Well it does if you almost killed someone Sherlock! -JW

I didn't kill him! He's still alive for God's sake! -SH

Barely from what you're telling me! What made you do it? -JW

I just lost it ok! Fine, he insulted Molly terribly. I snapped and lashed out. -SH

So what? You were defending Molly? Why didn't you just say that?. -JW

Like I said, he insulted her. He was completely slagging her off as people call it. You didn't ask! -SH

Ok!. I'll pick you up for bail. How much is it? -JW

Thank you.Mmm, fifty pounds. I'll pay you back -SH

You definitely are. Lestrade there with you? -JW

Yes, he's giving me a disappointed glare. -SH

Well at least you're not there for drugs. See you soon. -JW

 


	2. Bail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Yeah and also if you want to do an RP with me or you want to ask questions about my story or anything. My email is whatyoudowhennooneseesyou@gmail.com

John took a cab down and limped his way into Scotland Yard, he saw Lestrade "I have the 50 quid for bail. Where is he?"  
Lestrade frowned slightly, glancing down at his leg. Then he let out a small sigh. "Cell sixteen, down that corridor" he instructed, pointing to his left.  
John smiled and gave him the money. He limped down to his cell, his leg playing up. He finally could see Sherlock through the cell "There you are. C'mon, you're free."  
Sherlock slowly got up, making his way out of the cell. Then he frowned at John, looking down at his leg. "Your limp has come back...."  
"Yes, my leg is playing up due to the amount of stress I'm under!" John hissed painfully.  
Sherlock felt guilty for what John said "I'm sorry" he apologised.  
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose "Its alright, not exactly your fault".  
Sherlock shook his head "No it is. I shouldn't have been an idiot. I'll pay you back, honest.  
John rolled his eyes "Just come on" he ushered Sherlock.  
Sherlock did as he was told, following John out of the station, feeling like a lost puppy.  
John limped and walked his way to the taxi, not talking to Sherlock at all

 

Once they were in the cab, he turned to John "Are you angry with me?'  
"Of course I am. I had to limp my way over here. My leg is excruciating now" he winced and rubbed his leg.  
Sherlock nodded, wringing his hands in his lap. "I an walk home if you want. If...if you want me out of your life altogether, then just say no."  
John sighed and looked at Sherlock "Do you have to be so dramatic! You just hurt someone, not killed them!"  
He blushed, leaning his head on the window. "Right, sorry" he said softly, smiling faintly.  
John sighed and leaned his hand on hand and looked out the window.  
Sherlock closed his eyes after a moment, drifting off into his mind palace.


	3. Home

When they arrived, John limped upstairs to the couch before collapsing onto it. He closed his eyes in relief.  
Sherlock looked over at him, tilting his head. "You look like you need some sleep."  
John nodded and looked at Sherlock, his blue eyes darkening "I do".  
Sherlock nodded, humming "Maybe you're sick from being sleep deprived."  
John nodded and curled himself up into a ball, he closed his eyes and sighed.  
Sherlock itched his eye, "Do you need anything?"  
John nodded "cup of tea, thank you."  
Sherlock nodded, smiling faintly as he went into the kitchen. Sherlock then filled the kettle up with fresh water, before putting it to boil.  
John put his feet on the couch and laid down, resting his eyes. He was asleep in minutes.  
Once he'd finished making John's drink, he picked the mug up, heading towards the lounge with it before he paused. "Oh"

 

John woke up with a splitting headache and a nasally cough. It appears he was coming down with the flu.  
Sherlock had flopped down face first on his bed, and was fast asleep. He stirred and groaned, as he rolled over onto his back to make himself more comfortable.  
John staggered to the kitchen, sniffling and wiping his nose. He groaned and moaned, feeling the aches and pains. He gave himself 3 painkillers, his vision all blurry and obscure.  
The detective slowly opened his eyes, as he heard groaning.Sherlock got up and left the bedroom, going into the kitchen. 'What's wrong?" John looked terrible, his nose and eyes were all puffy and sore from all the sneezing."I think I have the flu" he murmured. He then gave another sneeze and blew his nose. Sherlock cringed "Well, I think.....you should try and get some rest." He suggested, wrinkling his nose. "I can't rest now.AAACHOOOOOO! I have a case to do. AAACHOOO" John sneezed out. He learned on the table and rubbed his eyes. Sherlock sighed, shaking his head. "No, you need to get some rest.Come on" he told him, as he took his arm. "OK fine but for 10 minutes OK?" John mumbled drowsily as he let Sherlock drag him. Sherlock rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Once they were in Johns bedroom, he tucked him up, before he turned the light off and left the room. John murmured and mutated in his sleep. He sneezed and coughed throughout the not, his nice all runny and blocked. Sherlock cringed as he heard him. Sherlock got out of his own bed, and found a box of tissues, placing them on Johns bedside table. John sneezed and coughed the entire night, his nose was all blocked and runny. He shivered and murmured in his sleep. Sherlock heard him again, and opened the airing cupboard, taking a thick blanket out. Sherlock brought brought into Johns room, laying it over John to try and warm him up. John shifted violently until Sherlock wrapped a blank,et around him. He wrapped the blanket around him and whispered a "Thank you Sherlock" before closing his eyes. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "You're welcome" he told him, before he started towards the door. John shivered at Sherlock "C-Can you come stay here with me please?".


	4. Comfort

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, before he nodded. "Erm, .....okay" he said, closing his door as he stepped inside.  
John murmured and mindlessly reached out to Sherlock "I'm so cold."  
Sherlock moved over to him and sat down, feeling his forehead.  
John sighed and moved closer towards Sherlock, nuzzling into his chest.  
Sherlock stayed still as he looked down at him, giving his shoulder a small pat.  
"Mmm I've always wanted to try this with you Sherlock" John murmured.  
He raised an eyebrow at him "Try what?" He asked quietly.  
"Hugging you, I just always thought you'd say no."  
Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not a really hugging person. But I don't know" he admitted, looking down at him.  
John was sleep talking, he didn't know what he was saying, he just smiled and drooled onto Sherlock shirt.  
He glanced at the drool and grimaced, before he flicked his eyes around the room.  
John brought his arms up even more and wrapped them around Sherlock, pulling him even more.  
As he did so, the detective let out a yelp, as his face was suddenly crushed against Johns chest.  
John Nuzzled Sherlock and started snoring, his face bearing a childish smile.  
Sherlock huffed, gently trying to push Sherlock off him. John murmured a "love you" before releasing and rolling away from Sherlock.  
He smiled to himself, as he rolled over onto his side, galling fast asleep almost instantly.  
John woke up a few hours later, confused as to why Sherlock was in his bed.


	5. Memories

John went back to bed, falling asleep peacefully.  
John woke up a few hours later, screaming and whimpering, he had memories of Afghanistan again. He clutched the sheets in fear and whimpered. Tied with the flu, he looked like a little boy.  
Sherlock almost jumped out of his skin as he heard John screaming. Before he got up, and looked over at John "What is it?" He asked, blinking several times. Still half asleep.  
"Afghanistan! " John cried out, tears running down his face. "I don't know....What's happening?"  
"I think it's PTSD. You had it when I met you, and then sometimes you lash without meaning too."  
John shivered and whimpered "I do you know anymore" as he let out a gut wrenching cough.  
Sherlock cringed "I think you're going to have to go and see a doctor" he advised.  
:I don't need a doctor. I am a doctor!" John yelled out.  
Sherlock sighed heavily "Well I'm not, I don't know what to do! "  
"I don't k ow what to do!" John cried out as he clutched the sheets to himself.  
Sherlock sighed as he stood up. "Fine. Then I'm going to take you to the hospital."  
"I don't need the hospital!. I'm fine Sherlock!" John clutched the sheets around himself.  
"But you're not! You're coughing and sneezing and restless. ...."  
"It'll pass in a few days! I just need time to get over it. It'll be fine in the end, I just need time" John kept repeating, his eyes rapidly blinking.  
Sherlock sighed heavily. "But John, if you don't do anything then you won't be able to get better!"  
John's hands tremored uncontrollably. "If I do something, it's not going to get better anyway! "  
He hummed "If will John, please. You need to get better, you're starting to scare me."  
"Scared! You don't know what scared is. Try bombs and children in smolderingnheat with their insides torn out of them!" John cried out, his face a smattering of tears and phlegm. "Try not sleeping for 3 days, for fear someone will try and kill you in your sleep!"  
John buried his head in the sheets

Sherlock flinched at the tone, not entirely sure on what to say or do. Before he let out a heavy sigh, he retreated out of the room, deciding to leave John alone.  
"Just please stay! Please. I'm so alone!" He whimpe re d and buried his head in his hands. He brought his knees up to his chest and cried like a little boy.  
Sherlock sank back down onto the floor, leaning his head back against the door.

 

John grabbed his Browning gun and went to the bathroom .  
Sherlock spotted him as he closed the door, "John, what are you doing?"  
John cried out and clutched the gun in his throat. He couldn't do this, he couldn't. "I'm so sorry Sherlock: he cried.


	6. Pain

He frowned, slowly trying to open the door "Sorry what?" He called, his brows furrow in in concern.  
John was thinking about whether to shoot himself in the throat or back of head. His Fi gers shook so bad and his vision was so blurry, he couldn't see anything. He fired the gun but he botched it so it fired it, just above his heart.  
Sherlock eyes widened in surprise as he heard the gun shot. He swallowed hard, pushing his shoulder against the door, until the lock broke. "John w-whatare you doing.... what have you done?!" He exclaimed, seeing the blood on John's flesh.  
"I botched it" John whimpered, cupping his wound and watching the blood drain from his wound "Sherlock I'm going to..." his legs collapsed.  
Sherlock quickly caught him, sitting down on the floor. Sherlock then took his phone out of his pocket, calling for an ambulance.  
John collapsed onto the bathroom floor, his blood staining the tiles. "Sherlock, , leave me" he gasped out.  
Once he had, he came back into the bathroom and sat down next to John. Sherlock then picked up a towel, placing it on his wound.  
John weakly swatted his arm away, "i want to die Sherlock. Leave me be" John weakly moved away from him.

Sherlock frowned and moved over to him, pressing the towel on his wound. "No you don't. That's not true John".  
"Its is true Sherlock. I'm a broken toy. Cant be fixed. Don't bother." John winced.  
He gritted his teeth. "Don't say that John. You're my best friend, and I want to help you".

Sherlock shook his head, feeling a few tears fall down his face. "No, n-no way. I won't d-do that, I c-can't".  
"You'll find someone else, someone better than me. Someone who's not broken" John closed his eyes, his breathing shallow "Let me go."  
He cringed, before sighing in relief as he heard an ambulance pull up outside. "I won't do that, your my best friend" he said, before he got up to go and tell the paramedics where they were.  
John sighed and started to cry, tears streaming down his face. "No, i want to die please" John begged.  
Sherlock shook his head. "I won't allow that" he told him, frowning. Before he slowly helped him to get out of bed.  
The bathroom floor was stained with Johns blood and tears. He let himself be dragged by the paramedics.  
He glanced down at the floor and cringed. Before he sighed heavily, following the paramedics and John downstairs.  
John collapsed from blood loss just as he hit the bed. They put an oxygen mask on him.  
Sherlock stopped when he reached the ambulance. "Can I go with him?".  
One nodded and let him on. Then they drove quickly to the hospital.


	7. Hospital

When they arrived, he quickly got out, allowing the paramedics to wheel John inside.

When they got in, they immediately prepped him for surgery, the wound was pretty deep and pretty gruesome.

Sherlock sank down on a seat in the reception, nervously wringing his hands in his lap.

A doctor came out "Sherlock Holmes, I'm the doctor. The surgery had a slight complication. The bullet slightly punctured his head and caused internal bleeding."

He quickly stood up, his eyes wide. "W-what? You...your going to be able to do something about it, aren't you?" he questioned frantically.

"We've sutured the wound but he's lost a lot of blood. The bullet shattered in him and we've tried to take as many pieces out as we could but he might not make it. He's unconscious but he might not wake up. I'd prepare for the worst. I'm sorry."

Sherlock nodded, feeling his heart sink in his chest. He slowly sat himself down, his hands shaking. Why did he allow to go alone with his gun? The detective dropped his head in his hands, shaking.

John was in his room, needles everywhere. He had one that poured in IV and one that injected blood. He had a massive bandage over his chest and now lay unconscious.

When the doctor had left, he started to shake uncontrollably. John couldn't die. He was his best friend. He would be alone again, and then the problems would start. Sherlock groaned, digging his nails into the side of his head.

After a few moments, he slowly got up, making his way down the corridor. Sherlock then stopped outside John's room, and quietly made his way inside, catching his breath when he saw what state John was in.

Johns face and skin was white, translucent almost. The blood stood out starkly against his skin.

Sherlock let out a small sigh, sitting down on a chair beside his bed. "I'm so sorry about this John. I made this all happen..."

John had a shallow heartbeat. His lips were pasty and blue,Sherlock reached a hand out, placing it over John's. "Hold on for me John, please.

He then let out a heavy sigh, moving to hold his hand properly. Sherlock then moved himself closer, laying his head on John's chest, as he felt a few tears fall down his face. "I-I know you don't t-think I do, but I love you John. I need y-you. Please...p-please don't leave me".

John heard the voice and tears but he couldnt move. It was like he was paralysed and couldnt be seen. A tear fell from his eye.

Sherlock sighed heavily and closed his eyes, remaining as close as he could to him, not wanting to move himself away.

Mycroft walked in a few minutes later, his face pale and white. He rested a hand on Sherlock's shoulder "I'm so sorry brother mine."

He shrugged his hand off, as he buried his face in John's chest. "H-he has to live. I...I need h-him, I c-can't loose m-my best friend..."

Mycroft took his hand away and sat down in the chair beside John. "Do they know what's happened?".

Sherlock lifted his head to look over at him. "The..." he paused, clearing his throat. "The doctor said that the bullet had created a puncture, and internal bleeding..."

"Do they know if he's going to wake or not?" Mycroft asked, he already knew what happened.

He looked over at John, and shook his head. "No, and if they know, then they haven't said anything"

Sherlock hummed as he got up off the bed. "He's strong though. He should pull through.

Mycroft sighed and smiled, "Yes Sherlock he will. Don't worry."

Sherlock ran his fingers through John's hair once more, before he started towards the door.

Mycroft looked up at him, "Where you going?. You have to stay with him. Just in case he wakes up."

"Toilet" he murmured. Sherlock left the room and headed down the corridor into the toilet. Once he had used it, he washed his hands, and made his way back into John's room.

 

 

 


	8. Death

Heart monitors had started beeping rapidly and nurses had entered the room. "Heart rate is dropping!"  
A nurse called out.  
Sherlock glared at his older brother. "You said that he was going to be alright!"  
"Well how was I supposed to know!" Mycroft shouted angrily. "Inject the adrenaline!"  
He looked over at the nurses. "He needs adrenaline."  
"His hearts stopped beating!".  
Sherlock's eyes widened, he quickly stepped out of the room. He needed to calm down, he made his way outside, and leant against the wall, closing his eyes.  
Mycroft stepped out with Sherlock. "Hell pull through. I just know it."  
He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "No one can know that. Don't be ridiculous"  
John stopped moving, his heart stopped beating. He just laid there while the heart monitor moved in a straight line.  
After several minutes, the detective headed inside and towards John's room. "Can I see hi-" he then paused, his eyes widening when he heard a dull beep.  
The nurses all sighed and looked at Sherlock sadly. "Im sorry Sherlock, theres nothing we could do. The shrapnel punctured his heart, we couldnt do much more."  
Sherlock shook his head. "No..n-no...John wouldn't just. He w-wouldn't just leave me l-like that.." he stammered, starting to shake from head to toe.  
"Im sorry.Well leave the room, we'll give you half an hour before we have to remove the body."  
He sat down next him, taking John's hand in his. Which felt cold to touch. Sherlock sighed, before he hit the bed with his fist, and broke down into hard sobs which shook his whole body.  
Mycroft sat down next to Sherlock as he felt tears prick his eyes. He shouldnt be crying, cryings a nuisance. He held his fingers gently over Johns.  
Sherlock hugged his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth. "Y-you lied! You..you p-promised he would p-pull through!"  
"Well i dont know everything!" Mycroft yelled out, tears staining his eyes.  
He huffed as he stood up, and stormed out of the room. Sherlock then made his way into the morgue, and sank down on the floor, his whole body shaking.  
Mycroft sighed and waited outside with Sherlock. His hands were shaking and trembling on his umbrella. "Im sorry Sherlock."  
Sherlock gritted his teeth. "T-this is all my fault. H-he..I shouldn't h-have left him alone in the b-bathroom with his gun" he stammered. Before he groaned, digging his nails into either side of his head.  
Mycroft kneeled down and put his hand on Sherlock "Say goodbye, Sherlock. You dont want remember your last meeting like this."  
The detective opened his mouth to argue, before he nodded and slowly stood up, making his way into John's room. Sherlock flicked his eyes over him, biting down on his lip.  
John laid there with a sad smile on his face. His skin was completely white and his hands were cold and dry  
Sherlock smiled, squeezing John's hand. "Goodnight John. Sleep well" he whispered, before he slipped out of the room.  
Mycroft patted Sherlocks shoulder before whispering a "Bye John" and walking out.

 

 

A few weeks after John had died, it finally hit Sherlock, that his best friend was never going to come back. The detective had just returned from a crime scene, but had barely be able to focus, and hadn't been able to deduce anything from the body. For the first time, he had drawn up a blank, and was completely mortified. Sherlock slowly headed upstairs, before he cracked. John's chair was still there, along with the newspaper that he had been reading. The detective blinked hard, as tears poured down his face. He needed to break somwthing, to help calm himself down. Sherlock kicked the coffee table, so that it shattered. Before he pushed all the papers off his desk, letting them flutter to the floor.  
That night, Sherlock cried himself to sleep. Once he finally managed to close his eyes, he had raging nightmares. He ended up sitting up in bed, screaming and crying uncontrollably, so loud, that he knew he had probably woke Mrs Hudson up.

 

Life was never going to be the sunshine it always was with John Watson.


End file.
